


All the day and nighttime

by CheapLemonIceLolly



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2015 NHL Entry Draft, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, not like...serious jealousy, these boys are just idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 02:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16845247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheapLemonIceLolly/pseuds/CheapLemonIceLolly
Summary: It's like a month before the draft when Dylan tells him he's got a crush on someone.  Which, quite frankly, is the worst possible time Connor could be hearing this."I'm not telling you who," Dylan says quickly before Connor can respond. "So don't ask.""I wasn't going to," Connor lies. He's immediately so desperate to know that he feels nauseated.





	All the day and nighttime

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt fic getting a backup on Ao3, apologies if you already saw this on tumblr! The prompt was "mcstrome jealousy" - I'm not all that good at taking jealousy seriously, but this is a bit of fun anyway.
> 
> Title from "I've Got a Crush on You" by George and Ira Gershwin

It's like a month before the draft when Dylan tells him he's got a crush on someone. Which, quite frankly, is the worst possible time Connor could be hearing this.

"I'm not telling you who," Dylan says quickly before Connor can respond. "So don't ask."

"I wasn't going to," Connor lies. He's immediately so desperate to know that he feels nauseated.

"But it's not a girl," Dylan goes on, with this kind of fake bravado, like he's pretending it's not a big deal but it super is. Connor doesn't know why it _should_ be a big deal; he's known Dylan's bi for over a year at this point, and he's never been bothered by it before. But then again, this is the first time in that stretch that Dylan's expressed an interest in guys that was any more than theoretical, so.

Connor one hundred percent _is_ bothered by it now, but to be fair he'd be bothered if it was a girl too.

"Okay," he says, a little stiffly. "Great. Just as long as there's no drama. You know I hate drama."

Dylan rolls his eyes, but he relaxes a little too, like he's relieved. He reaches out and messes up Connor's hair just to be a dick.

"Sorry bud, I _am_ drama. Take it or leave it."

Connor takes it, but he's not happy about it.

*

The thing is, Connor might be quiet and polite and team-oriented and all that nice guy stuff you're supposed to be as a product of the Canadian hockey system, but you don't get where he is if you're not also competitive and driven, and if you don't _really_ hate to lose. Sure you're supposed to be graceful about losses, at least in public, but what Connor has in common with all the best hockey players is that he hates losing more than anything.

And finding out right at the last moment that Dylan's into someone, right before they're about to get split apart by the draft and maybe only see each other a couple of times a year instead of every single day all season? It feels an awful lot like losing.

"It serves you right," he tells himself in the bathroom mirror, and then immediately feels stupid about talking to himself out loud like a weirdo. But... He'd put off doing anything about his _own_ dumb crush until the season was over, and then until he'd recovered from the season being over, because it was a big deal and he'd been waiting for the right time to say something for ages, so what was a little more time? And then there was so much pre-draft shit to think about and he'd just put it off and put it off until until now all of a sudden it’s too late. 

He just sort of trusted Dylan would always be there, perpetually available, already _his_ in so many other ways. He could wait to ask about anything more until he felt really, definitely ready. There's this moment sometimes before taking a shot on goal when everything slows right down, when you have to be patient and hold on just a split second longer than anyone else, until the smallest opening appears and the goalie overcommits and you can slip through the cracks and score, and it's mostly instinct to him now, when you have to be patient and when the right moment comes. Only, with this, with Dylan, he was so preoccupied he never did feel ready. And now he's missed his window without ever taking a shot.

Instead he's left with this gnawing, twisty feeling in his gut, somewhere between anger and sadness and the whiny frustrated feeling of _just_ missing out. Jealousy, he realises eventually. Not an emotion he's ever had much need for before now. He does _not_ like it.

"Drama," he says out loud, scowling at his reflection. He hates drama almost as much as he hates losing.

*

"I think it's really serious," Dylan tells him, and he looks it, looks so serious that Connor feels alarmed.

"What is?" he demands. His imagination crowds with all kinds of nightmare scenarios where Dylan's sick, or has to go on the run from the law for some reason, or...whatever it is, Connor's going to stick with him. If that means he needs to skip the draft to stay by Dylan's bedside or buy two plane tickets to Australia with his savings or something, he'll do it. There's always another draft next year. Or maybe they have hockey in Australia, he doesn't know.

He must look a little intense, because Dylan flushes slightly when he says, "Uh, my crush."

Connor deflates. The bitter little knot of jealousy in his gut feels sharp and heavy, like he's swallowed a really angry rock.

"Oh," he says flatly. Dylan sighs.

"Yeah. I think...I think maybe it's more than just a crush. Like I'm in--" Connor turns away and squeezes his eyes shut instinctively, like he's bracing for impact-- "love or something. God, that sounds so fucking dumb. But. I just think about him so much. All the time, nearly, you know?"

Connor, who has barely slept all week, constantly startling awake from nauseating nightmares about Dylan dating or marrying each one of their mutual friends in turn, certainly does know. He's never really thought about it that way - being _in love_ \- because it seemed too cheesy and too dramatic, but now…

"That's great," he says woodenly, trying and failing to sound like he actually means it. "You should definitely tell him."

"You think?" Dylan says, startled.

"I mean, yeah, of course." Connor grits his teeth. "Before he ends up falling for someone else and you miss your window."

"Oh," Dylan says, looking alarmed. "I hadn't thought of that. I mean, he doesn't really talk about dating much. Kind of a single-focus sort of dude."

"Huh," Connor says. "Maybe if I knew who it was I could help more." Or track the guy down and somehow set him on fire, something along those lines. Dylan turns bright pink.

"I can't tell you," he says quickly, turning away.

Connor feels extremely sick. That means it's someone he _knows_.

*

Probably if Dylan hasn’t told Connor who he has a crush on, he hasn’t told anybody, but if there’s anyone he _might_ tell things he won’t (or, apparently, can’t) tell Connor, it’s Brinksy. Alex might have enough information to make an educated guess, at least.

It’s not until Connor’s already texted him asking if he knows who Dylan’s crush is that it occurs to him Alex might _be_ Dylan’s crush. They're close, lineys, roommates. It would be easy for something to happen between them, or even just for Dylan to want something to happen. The thought is a little nauseating. Connor _likes_ Alex. He doesn’t want to have to hate him on principle.

Oh well, it’s too late for that now. Whoever it is he's probably going to end up hating somebody.

Alex takes an awfully long time to respond to his text. Connor knows he’s seen it because he’s got read receipts on, but it’s like half an hour before he texts back. And when he does it’s just:

_sorry bro idk_

Connor narrows his eyes suspiciously at his phone.

_Really?? Didn't he say anything to you??_

There's another very long pause before the next reply comes, which Connor spends drumming his fingers agitatedly on his knee.

_nope_

Connor scoffs. He doesn't believe that for a second. If Alex is taking this long to say he doesn't know anything then he _for sure_ does, and why would Dylan tell him and not Connor? Is Alex more trustworthy or something? God, now Connor's not even just not Dylan's boyfriend of choice, he's not even his best friend of choice anymore either. Everything's falling apart.

He's just about to fire back an ill-advised, overly pissy response when the phone buzzes in his hand with a text from Dylan.

_stop hassling brinks ab me hes not telling u anything_ he says. And then, a couple of seconds after: 

It's probably supposed to be friendly, let Connor know he's not actually mad about it, but it feels more like a taunt. It feels like Dylan's getting a real kick out of Connor being a jealous lunatic about this, not that he _knows_ Connor's jealous, but...ugh. Connor tosses his phone aside in disgust.

He hates drama even more when the drama's his own fucking fault.

*

Connor's pretty good at seeing clues in every interaction Dylan has with literally every guy, even guys who couldn't be The Crush because Dylan barely knows him, but it's on a boat in the Everglades that Connor realises Dylan’s crush is Mitch Marner.

There's nothing definitive, just something about the way Dylan keeps glancing over whenever Marns is doing something particularly Marns-ish, like waving a snake at Connor or clinging to Connor's side in pretend turbulence, or draping himself over Connor's shoulders trying to get him to touch a gross worm. Something about the way Dylan tenses up very slightly each time makes Connor's heart sink. It's subtle, but he knows Dylan well enough to tell when his lazy smile is real and when it's forced.

He doesn't say anything to either of them about it, just laughs and jokes with Marns and seriously considers throwing him to an alligator. Like, Marns is his friend, but this is bigger than that. Marns is his friend but Dylan is just _his_.

He knows in some last remaining rational part of his brain that that's not how anything works, that he doesn't get to make that call. But at this point the rational part of his brain is much quieter than the part that sees Marns touch Dylan on the arm, leaning in to say something close to his ear, and yells _throw him in the swamp and reclaim your territory_.

Connor breathes out hard through his nose, and Jack Eichel glares at him like he's somehow offended him just by breathing. Now there’s someone who knows a thing or two about jealousy. Connor ignores him, and tries to ignore Marns too. But he couldn't ignore Dylan if his life depended on it. It's not _fair_.

*

The pre-draft tour stuff is supposed to be fun, but it feels...worse, after that, more like the end of an era than the start of one this is supposed to be. He feels like Dylan's drifting away from him too early. He wants to be drafted, of course he does, but he just...he wants to play hockey and be with the handful of people whose company he truly enjoys, and for the rest of his life to just not get in the way too much.

Dylan's stupid crush is what keeps getting in the way. And never is this more obvious than the night before the draft when Connor ditches the chaos of the impromptu pre-draft party in one of the other guys' hotel rooms to head back to his room alone, and Dylan follows him. He doesn't even ask, just walks right into Connor's room and throws himself onto the bed, kicking his shoes off on the way like he owns the place.

He stretches out and puts his hands behind his head and grins, so familiar it makes Connor ache.

"So, what's the plan, cap?"

"You can't call me that anymore," Connor points out. "I'm not the captain of anything." 

He glances at the chair in the corner and wonders if it would be too weird to sit over there instead of joining Dylan on the bed. Eventually he decides it probably would be too weird, so he slips off his own shoes and climbs up next to him, and tries not to enjoy it too much when Dylan immediately cuddles into his side. Or to enjoy it the right way, anyway. They've been inseperable for two years, and now they're about to be separated. Wasting this on being jealous is just stupid when there's nobody else here. 

Dylan, oblivious to all this soul searching, snorts loudly right in his ear. "Pfft. 'Sif you won't be captain of something again by, like, next year."

"Shut up," Connor smiles, picking up the tv remote from the bedside table and hitting Dylan on the head with it. "What d'you feel like watching? Don't say The Mighty Ducks," he adds as Dylan opens his mouth, and gets a sharp jab in the ribs in response that makes him laugh.

He can do this. This is normal. This is _good_.

After a short squabble over the remote (in which Dylan gets hit on the head several more times), they settle on some random new release on the hotel system. Honestly Connor hardly cares what they're watching. He's sinking into the familiarity of this moment like a warm bath, warm and sleepy with it, and what's on the tv could really be anything. He turns his face into Dylan's hair, where he's resting his head on Connor's shoulder, and makes a soft contented noise.

Of course then Dylan has to go and ruin it.

“Hey," he says softly. Connor hums. "Hey uh. You know my crush?"

It's like getting plunged into a feelings ice bath. Connor goes cold all over.

"No," he says, sitting up slightly and dislodging Dylan from his shoulder. "No, come on, not tonight."

"Wait," Dylan says. "It's not-- okay, just listen."

"I don't want to hear it," Connor says firmly, and all the feelings rush back in again like emotional pins and needles. It _hurts_. "You didn't want to tell me and now I don't care anymore."

Dylan stares at him like he's been hit with the remote again. "I'm trying to tell you something important, here," he says. He looks really upset, and Connor kind of hates himself for causing it, but he's really upset too and he can't do this, he _can't_. He feels like the floor's dropped away from under him, like he's never going to stop falling. "You don't have to...to _care_ , whatever, but I don't understand why you're being such an asshole about it."

“Being a-- oh, fuck off" Connor snaps, making Dylan actually recoil. "This is maybe the last time we'll get to spend together for ages, and all you want to talk about is being in love with some mystery guy? I'm jealous, you dick."

"You're," Dylan looks bewildered. "You're what?"

Connor should definitely shut up now, but it's like a dam's broken inside his brain and he's no longer got any control over the words pouring out. "I don’t want you to be in love with someone else," he says furiously, "I want you to be in love with _me_ , so can you just shut up and let me ignore your fucking crush for one night?"

Dylan gapes at him. This was definitely not it, definitely not the perfect moment or the perfect confession, by far. This is the biggest fucking missed shot of Connor's life and he wishes frantically that he could untake it, press rewind on this disaster. 

That feeling does not improve at all when Dylan starts to _laugh_.

"Oh my god," he gasps, putting both hands over his face and shaking with laughter. "Oh my _god_."

Connor doesn't know what to say. He's in shock, humiliated, he knew Dylan wanted someone else but he still wasn't expecting to be _laughed_ at, so long and loud it's like Dylan's never heard anything funnier in his entire life. He wants to run away but he feels rooted to the spot, frozen to the bed with horror. Dylan reels into his side, laughing helplessly and presses his face into Connor's shoulder, and Connor's insides feel like ice.

"I'm sorry," Dylan says, kind of clutching at him. "I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you."

"You kind of fucking are," Connor says, extremely coldly. Dylan stops laughing abruptly and looks up at him.

"No," he says. "No, I _am_ in love with you, you fucking idiot. Who d'you think I've been talking about this whole time? You _are_ the mystery guy, that's what I was trying to tell you."

Connor stares at him. His mind is a complete, bewildered blank for a full ten seconds. It’s not like time stops but more like his whole sense of reality just jams, rewinds, turns upside down, like that moment when you watch The Sixth Sense for the first time and you get to the whole Bruce-Willis-was-a-ghost-the-whole-time part and you’re just like… _what?_ What the _fuck??_ And then you look back at everything you’ve seen so far and you just think… _oh_. 

Finally, he manages to find his voice.

"Did you-- did you just call me a _fucking idiot?_ " he splutters. "What kind of confession of love is that?"

A second after he actually hears what he just said and feels his face turn red. Holy shit. Like, he’s got it but he didn’t really _get it_ until he said it out loud. He loves him. Dylan loves him. He did the whole time.

Dylan grins at him, also a little red. "It's the kind you get when you're a fucking idiot," he says, and then laughs again, shaking his head. "You were jealous of yourself, I can't--"

" _Stop_ ," Connor says, but he can feel the involuntary smile tugging at his mouth. "You're actually-- you're not messing with me, are you?"

The look Dylan gives him is unbearably soft. "You fucking idiot," he says fondly. And then he leans in and kisses him, just to drive the point home. Connor's so lost in his feelings he forgets to kiss back for a second. Only for a second though.

It’s better that he thought it would be. Not because Dylan’s the Wayne Gretzky of kissing or anything, but because it’s _real_ , and Connor never really thought it could be.

He wishes he hadn’t thought of Wayne Gretzky in reference to kissing though.

"Okay," Dylan says, after a moment. His face is definitely flushed now, his mouth extra pink. “But, like, I spelled it out for you, so you gotta spell it out for me, just to be clear. Is this, um. You're really...? You're not just...being nice, or…"

Connor rolls his eyes. The draft is tomorrow and who knows when they'll be face to face again, but he feels like he might never stop smiling. "You fucking idiot," he says, and kisses him again.


End file.
